


Snippets of Souls

by Solrika



Series: Daemon AU [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Character Study, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Daemons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrika/pseuds/Solrika
Summary: A place for my collected Daemon AU drabbles that aren't quite big enough to turn into fics of their own. Each chapter has its own summary in the notes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Recall, Blackwatch era.
> 
> Dulce eats a sandwich, and Aiko worries (but not about the sandwich).

Dulce’s returning from the kitchen with a mouth full of stolen sandwich when Aiko scampers up to her, rearing up to block the coyote’s way. “Don’t go in there.”

Dulce glances from the bedroom door to the dragon, doing her best to convey confusion past the sandwich. 

“They’re fucking again,” Aiko explains, ears flattening back in distaste. Dulce can’t help but grin at her expression, tail wagging in mirth. Aiko flattens her ears farther, batting at the coyote’s nose. “Don’t laugh at me. It’s gross. _They’re_ gross.”

Dulce’s snicker is audible even past the sandwich, and Aiko rolls her eyes and drops back down to four legs. “I’m going to take over the couch until they’re done,” she says, and trots off. 

Dulce follows. Aiko slows just enough for her to catch up, and takes the offered paw to clamber onto Dulce’s back. She could make the leap easily on her own, but Dulce’s discovered that the dragon seems to like playing at being a delicate lady. It’s a mirror of how Genji enjoys being swanned around on Jesse’s arm, hiding his deadliness under a veneer of innocuous gentility. Dulce and Jesse figure it’s a Shimada thing, even there’s no one left of that family to compare their partners to.

It’s only when she’s hopped up onto the couch and set down the sandwich that Dulce asks, “Why’s it bother you so much?”

“Why does what bother me?” Aiko makes herself comfortable on Dulce’s back, little bird-hands kneading into the soft fur.

“Them fuckin’.” Dulce takes a bite of the sandwich, wolfing it down before adding, “You’re always actin’ so offended.”

Letting out a soft huff, Aiko rests her head across Dulce’s shoulders. “It’s messy.”

Dulce rolls her eyes, seeing the lie for what it is. “I’ve seen y'covered in blood. Try again.”

Aiko’s ears flatten back, a little growl rumbling in her throat. “What’s it to you?”

“Aw, c’mon now.” Dulce gentles her tone, licks carefully at Aiko’s snout. “I don’t mean no harm. If it makes you that prickly, I won’t go pushin’.” 

“Humph,” says Aiko, but she licks back, little tongue tickling at Dulce’s nose until she sneezes. It makes the both of them laugh, and Aiko’s feathers relax, her ears perking back up. 

“There’s that pretty smile!” Dulce gives Aiko one more lick, just for good measure, tail thumping against the couch. 

“Flatterer,” snorts Aiko, and nestles herself a little further into Dulce’s fur. 

It seems, for the moment, that the topic of humans and sex is done with, so Dulce tucks back into her sandwich. It’s a good one, with proper mustard, and she’s so absorbed in eating that at first she doesn’t notice when Aiko starts talking again. It takes a little nip on the ear for her to look up. “Whuh?”

“Your face is covered in yellow,” Aiko says primly.

“’s excellent mustard.” Dulce leans over, coyote grin big and wily. “You wanna taste? Can just smear some on ya–”

Aiko stops her with a paw right in the middle of her black nose. “No. Yuck.” Dulce licks it just to hear her squeal. “Uncultured swine!”

“Ah, no, darlin’, see–I’m a _coyote_ , ‘s a _canine_ , very different than a pig–”

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Aiko huffs, but she’s grinning, and Dulce’s tail thumps against the couch again. 

She licks her chops clean, and asks, “So why’d y’bite me?”

“I was talking and you weren’t listening.”

“Listenin’ now.” Dulce rests her head on her paws, ears pricked and attentive. “See? Ears up an’ everythin’.”

Aiko stretches, makes herself comfortable again. Fidgets her claws against each other, and it’s only when Dulce lets out an impatient _whuff_ that she says, “I never know what to do.”

“When?”

“When they’re–” Aiko gestures towards the bedroom. “What are we supposed to do when they’re having sex?” Her claws flex, but Dulce takes the little pinpricks without comment. “ _He_ knows what he’s doing, but I’m just stuck out here– _been_ stuck out here, since he started going out whenever the Elders got up in our damn business.” She shifts restlessly, tail lashing. “It’s a whole part of our human’s lives we don’t fit into.”

Dulce raises her head to nose against those anxious paws. “They don’t mean to shut us out.”

Aiko snaps her jaws in agitation, teeth clicking together. “How do you know? Sometimes I thought he used to hate me, because I wasn’t–we weren’t–what they wanted, and now we’re _too much_ like what they did–”

“Hey, hey–” Dulce licks at Aiko’s chin, noses against her neck. “Darlin’, your boy loves you. This ain’t about him hatin’ you, ‘s about him wantin’ to jump Jesse’s bones.” Aiko’s claws prick again, and Dulce sighs, rolling over to force the dragon to scramble until she’s between Dulce’s forelegs. Coyotes aren’t built for hugging, but Dulce tries anyways. “I promise he don’t hate you.”

Aiko huddles into Dulce’s fur. “How do you _know_?”

Dulce snorts. “How do you _not_? He’s always got you on his shoulders, always stealin’ you treats when we go on missions, pettin’ your feathers and havin’ you sleep on his chest. That ain’t hatin’, darlin’. Not at all.” She licks at Dulce’s head, mindful of her sharp horns. “Humans can’t bond with each other like we can with ‘em. Sex ‘s just one’a the ways they try anyways. Genji’s not tryin’ t’ replace you with Jesse, he’s tryin’ t’ _add_ Jesse to his heart.”

“You sound so sure.” 

Dulce snorts again. “Darlin’, I promise th’ moment they’re done, they’re _both_ gonna be calling for us t’ come join in th’ cuddlin’. Neither of us is in danger of bein’ hated by those boys.”

Aiko hums. “They do like cuddling with us.”

“See?” Dulce squirms herself into a more comfortable position. “So just relax an’ enjoy gettin’ some time with me. I’ll even share th’ sandwich.”

“You can keep it.” Aiko nestles closer. “Dulce?”

“Hm?” 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime, darlin’.” Dulce tucks her partner closer. “Anytime.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Recall, Blackwatch era.
> 
> Luz and Gabriel bring Jesse in.

Gabriel squats in front of the kid and his daemon, peering at the little bundle of dirty fur snarling at him from inside the cage. Luz cocks her head to one side as it shifts from coyote to wildcat to hawk and back again, screaming indiscriminate curses as it goes. “She’s not settled yet?”

“None’a yer damn business,” the kid growls, trying for intimidating and landing in terrified. 

Luz and Gabriel share a look. The kid’s so skinny that Gabriel’s bicep is bigger around than his neck, and the little daemon’s not that much better. He’s got an undocumented mother back in Arizona that’ll catch hell once this goes public, and more important, he’s the only Deadlock that’s been sending money back to his family.

“Jack’s gonna hate this,” Gabriel tells Luz.

“Jack can suck it up,” Luz replies serenely. 

“True.” Gabriel looks back at the kid. “How willing are you to sell your gang up the river?”

The kid glares back. “Why’re ya askin’?” His daemon stays, for a moment, as a coyote, figures sharpening in interest. He’ll be a tricky one, but that’s how Gabe wants him. There’s no place in Blackwatch for stupidity.

“I figure,” Gabriel says, drawing the words out, “you and I can come to a deal that won’t end up in you and your mamá in an industrial lockup.” 

The coyote pricks her ears forwards, and the kid leans back, eyes narrowing. “I’m listenin’.”

Gabriel grins, and Luz preens, satisfied. Jack will hate this, but it’ll be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Recall, Blackwatch era.
> 
> Gabe and Luz make a Christmas present for Jesse, and it has to be Just Right.

Jesse’s first Christmas in Overwatch, Gabe gets him a hat to replace the battered old Stetson he brought with him from the Deadlocks. The second, Luz picks out little boots for Dulce to wear in the snow–they’d noticed her paws getting cold, the way she’d whine until Jesse picked her up and tucked her inside his coat. It’s Jesse’s third year with them now, and that calls for a _personal_ touch. 

A pity they can’t agree on colors.

“Red,” Luz insists, for the fifth time, and has the audacity to reach out and nip Gabe’s hand when he tries reaching for the black fabric instead. “Red! It’ll go so well with his skin!” 

“Black’s more practical,” Gabe retorts, shaking out his hand. “Won’t show stains, and God knows how often that kid spills his food.” 

Luz fluffs up her feathers, wings threatening to mantle. “Red. There’s enough black walking around the agency already.” 

“Overgrown turkey,” Gabriel growls, but she has a point. Better to give something Jesse can wear for himself, and not for Blackwatch. Grudgingly, he wanders over to the red fabrics, and then it’s another hour or so of bickering before they settle on their purchases. 

The making of the gift isn’t difficult–the pattern’s easy, and though it’s been a while since Gabriel’s embroidered something this big, _what_ he’s embroidering is simple enough. Luz sits on his shoulder and supervises the whole time. Every so often, he presses her into service–holding thread, lifting up a corner of fabric, keeping something in place–and though she grumbles, he can see she’s as invested in making this _right_ as he is. She may complain, but she does what’s asked every time.

In the end, it’s something from the both of them–Luz’s choices, Gabriel’s handiwork, woven together into a gift to keep their protegees warm. 

Jesse and Dulce end up opening it together, Jesse holding out the package for Dulce to gleefully rip open. Red spills out, and the little coyote wastes no time sniffing at it, nose twitching curiously. “It’s a blanket?”

“Close,” Luz says. “Serape.”

“To fit your look,” Gabriel adds.

Dulce protests when Jesse pulls it away, but sits back anyway to get a better look when he holds it up. A little bundle falls out, and Luz says, “Plus a coat for Dulce.”

“A coat!” Dulce yips, and dances around their feet.

The clothing’s a rich red, embroidered along the rim in gold–thick wool on the outside, wicking fabric inside to keep it warm and dry. Jesse fingers at an edge, and even if he’s hiding his emotions, Dulce’s whine of delight and wagging tail give it away. “Thankya kindly,” Jesse manages.

“Of course, vaquero.” Gabriel hesitates, and then offers an open arm. 

There’s a beat where Jesse stares at them, and then bolts into the offered embrace. “Thankya,” he says again, muffled against Gabe’s sweater. “It’s–- _thank_ ya.”

Luz bends down, and surprising even Gabriel, runs her beak through Jesse’s hair. “Anything for our vaqueritos.” 

Jesse sniffles a little against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Yer too kind,” he manages, voice wavering. Dulce leans against Gabriel’s leg as if she’s not sure she’s allowed. 

“Not at all.” Gabriel gives Jesse a squeeze, Luz hops down from his shoulder to give Dulce a nuzzle. “You two earned it.” 

Jesse’s grin is watery, and Dulce’s tail is wagging a mile a minute. “Thanks, jefe.”

“Of course, Jesse.” Gabriel returns the smile, ruffles Jesse’s hair. “Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Recall. 
> 
> Gabe and Jack have a bit of a fight.

The camp is quiet, almost as if it’s holding its breath, and the wind through the pine trees rustles against dry needles. Overwatch soldiers huddle in their tents, Blackwatch agents slink off into the forest, and Jack finds Gabriel waiting for him by the center fire. He doesn’t bother with a greeting. “What the hell was that?”

“Your bluecoats need to get out of my operatives’ way,” Gabe growls into his cigarette, shielding the match with a hand. “I told you this joint mission was a mistake.”

“For God’s sake,” Jill snaps back, curling her lip, “stop trying to bully our soldiers,” and Gabe lets out a low rasp that could almost be a laugh. 

“Bullying,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s what we’re calling good strategy now?” 

Jill growls, and Jack has to keep himself from following suit. He curls his hand in her fur to center himself, snaps, “A joint mission means cooperation, Gabriel, you can’t just push them out of the loop and take over. They can’t help you if you keep refusing it.” 

“Please. As if you’ve ever been interested in helping Blackwatch.” Gabe sucks in a breath of smoke, lets it out in a silky plume. “Just get out and let us do our jobs.” 

There’s an old note in his tone, one that used to make Jill roll over in supplication. It’s Gabriel’s command voice, and right now it makes Jill’s hackles go up. “You,” Jack snarls, “aren’t the one calling the shots here, Reyes.” 

“Like _you_ are, boyscout,” Gabriel snorts, flicking cigarette ash into the fire. “You really think I don’t notice that UN leash around your fucking neck?” 

Jack rears back in fury, and Gabe takes that opportunity to amble away. He’s lost within the tents before Jack can sputter out his rage, and when they go after him, there’s just dust and dry pine needles. 

Jill sniffs at the ground, hackles still bristling. “Trail’s muddy. How the fuck does he do that?” 

“Same way they get away from their daemons, I guess,” Jack snorts. “Damn black magic or something.” 

She curls her lip, doesn’t respond. It’s something else about Blackwatch they hate, that every operative appears to have a limitless range between them and their daemon. It’s unnatural. Gabe takes great pride in it. 

“And of course we can’t find him by looking for Luce,” Jack adds, scrubbing a hand through his hair. His shoulders still feel tight with anger. “Fuck. C’mon. I’m radioing HQ and making them send a transport to send Blackwatch home. We’re doing this without them.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Recall.
> 
> A fight between Jack and Gabriel turns sour when Jack touches Luz and it sends a shiver of wrongness up Gabriel's spine.

Later, he won’t be able to remember what they were fighting about in the first place. Budgets, maybe–something official, something stupid, something that had to do with the bluecoats getting more than they deserved and Blackwatch getting less. It’s routine.

Routine, too, is the way they come close to blows, Jill snarling in the background and Luz puffing herself up to look twice as big, everything on the razor’s edge of violence. Jack snaps something hurtful, Gabe yells it back, Luz backing it up with a hiss right in Jack’s fucking perfect face. That doesn’t matter. It’s happened before. 

What matters is this–Jack pushes her out of his space and his hand against Luz feels wrong, wrong, _wrong_ enough to make Gabriel stumble back to get her away.

Jack doesn’t catch it, just follows, bullheaded and stupid and stubborn as always. Gabriel clutches Luz to his chest, and Jack keeps going and sandwiches her between them, and it feels _wrong_ –

If he’d been thinking, Gabe would’ve seen it coming. All they’ve been doing lately is fighting and fucking, and you can’t keep love going on that. Jack rarely touches Luz anymore. When he does, it’s usually because she’s screaming in his face and he wants to shove her away. Gabe can’t remember the last time he tangled his fingers in Jill’s fur. 

“Get off,” Gabriel breathes, the wrongness crawling up his spine, and then in a roar, “Fucking _get off us_ , Morrison!” Luz thrashes in his arms, and neither she or Gabe care whether her claws catch in their haste to let her escape. 

Jack stops, mouth half-open in another yell, and Gabriel gathers himself and _pushes_. It’s not the graceful kicks or brutal throws of the sparring mat, just a mad scramble to get him and Luz out the door and away. She falls out of his arms on the way, wings beating in a flurry of feathers, talons raking across Jill’s nose when the dog tries to catch her. Gabriel throws himself out the door and Luz follows. They’re not sure which of them is panting in distress. 

It would be sensible to retreat for their rooms for the afternoon, cool their heads, and then go back and have a reasonable, mature conversation with Jack. Instead, Gabriel flicks on his comms, orders, “McCree, round up the agents, we’re leaving.”

“Wha–”

“I wanna see your ass on the tarmac in fifteen!” Gabriel doesn’t wait for a response before clicking over to the ground crew to get the Blackwatch jet ready to go. 

“We need to go home,” Luz whispers, landing on his shoulder as they reach their quarters. She shoves her face into his hair, voice trembling. “Gabe, I want to go home.” 

“We’re going, cariña,” he croons, shoving clothes indiscriminately into his bags, throwing the shotguns on top of them. He’ll leave the toiletries. Jack can have them–shampoo’s not hard to find. “We’re going.” 

Jesse meets them on the tarmac, the rest of the agents already strapping in inside the jet. “Jefe, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Gabriel says, and Jesse frowns, glances between him and Luz as if that’ll give up the answer. “Nothing,” Gabriel repeats, even though it’s a blatant lie, and pushes past him onto the jet. The rest of his agents are waiting, and the way they raise their heads, daemons pricking up their ears, soothes something in his tight chest. There’s no anger in any of their eyes, just curiosity that melts into quiet concern at the way Luz is still panting in distress. 

“Ready in two, sir,” the pilot calls, and Gabriel nods, sits down. Luz immediately hops into his lap, crowding herself close, and he can’t help grabbing her even closer. It’s clear by this point that it’s just politeness on his agents’ part that’s holding his attempt at casualness together. He considers trying to project a facade of normalcy onto this sudden departure. Some kind of explanation. Some excuse. 

Chava’s little parrot flutters over, perching on Gabe’s armrest. “Who touched you?” she demands, and even though she’s barely a quarter of Luz’s size, in that moment she seems twice as fierce. “Who fucking dared?”

“Nothing happened, Abbie,” Gabriel tries. 

“Sir,” Omar says, voice almost unbearably gentle, “it’s a little obvious.” His lioness lashes her tail, amber eyes narrowed, and it’s with steel running through his voice that he adds, “Who was it?” 

Gabriel fights the urge to hide his face in Luz’s feathers. His hands are shaking, and he grips her tighter. She just croons and rubs her face against his cheek, trying to soothe away the lingering wrongness clinging to the both of them. “It was nothing,” he rasps, and gives in just enough to close his eyes. He can hear Abbie croon, distantly feel when she leans over and tries to comfort Luz with a gentle beak in her feathers.

“We’ll kill them,” Omar murmurs to his lioness, almost too quiet for even Gabriel’s ears to catch. “We’ll find out who it is and we’ll kill them.” 

Quasar is the only omnic–and thus, the only daemonless individual–in the group, but still Gabriel hears them leaning over to whisper to Omar, “I will help you.” 

It’s such a Blackwatch way of caring that Gabriel almost lets out a watery chuckle. Instead, he just takes in a deep breath, sits back, rubs a hand over his face. “No one is killing anybody,” he announces to the jet at large, making sure to cast his voice far enough that even the pilot can hear (Able, too, is vicious when he wants to be). “Let’s just go home.” 

“Yessir,” comes the chorus of replies, and Gabriel cracks open an eye to make sure that no one is crossing their fingers behind their back.

Jesse gives him a weak grin and takes his arm out of hiding, and Dulce wags unrepentantly. Gabriel finally lets out that chuckle as the jet’s doors swing close. “Ingrates,” he says fondly.

“ _Your_ ingrates, sir,” Quasar says primly, lights giving a gentle pulse. 

“And don’t you forget it,” Luz retorts. She fluffs up her feathers and resettles herself with a shake, hunkering down on Gabriel’s lap. He buries his fingers in her soft down, and surrounded by safety, they finally relax.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Recall.
> 
> Hanzo and Genji have a chat.

Genji wishes he could be annoyed at Jesse for sending Dulce to keep an eye on him and Hanzo, but her warm weight in his lap is too comforting for him to complain. He runs his fingers through her soft fur, scratching behind her ears, and waits for Hanzo to speak.

He doesn’t have to wait long. His brother’s patience is still shit.

“She looks different.”

Genji glances up at where Hanzo and Masae are watching, their brows drawn together in identical frowns. He bites back the first thought in his head, that almost-dying tends to do that to you, and settles instead for, “Well, I changed a bit. Aiko did, too.”

Masae huffs, directs her words to the dragon draped over Genji’s shoulders. “Why couldn’t you have done this earlier?”

Once, Aiko would have bristled at the comment, but years of Blackwatch training and Zenyatta’s teaching keep her relaxed. It’s not really _them_ that Hanzo is angry at. “My apologies, sister. If I could’ve, I would’ve.”

Masae curls her lips, and Hanzo snaps, “If you just _applied_ yourself–” 

It’s an old argument, and Genji can’t help his snort. “You’re a broken record, Hanzo.” 

“Besides, he applied himself,” Dulce says, deceptively mild. “Just not for _you_.” She stretches, yawns, shows Masae her teeth. She stopped being afraid of bigger daemons a long time ago. “Sure do wonder why.”

“Rabble-rouser,” Aiko whispers, and Dulce just grins.

Hanzo’s hands fist, release, and Masae’s hackles bristle. Genji no longer feels his shoulders tighten in fear, his chest close in fury. He just feels tired, and frustrated with his brother’s old, old anger. “We can talk later,” he announces, standing up with Dulce cradled against his chest. He doesn’t miss how Masae glares at her, how she presses against him in a way that only a lover’s daemon would. Hanzo always was suspicious of his decisions. 

“Short talk,” Hanzo growls.

“Better than short tempers,” Genji shrugs, and leaves him to stew.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Recall.
> 
> Sometimes Angela needs to be reminded of her duty.

Mei’s daemon is a polar bear, dwarfing even Zarya’s Artur. He seems as mild as his partner, though. He ambles gently along in her wake on base, allows Carolina to tease him and pull at his ears. 

“An interesting choice,” Angela tells Mei the first time they cross paths. Her own Janus is small and compact, well suited to a battlefield or an operating room.

“Ah, well,” and Mei smiles, shrugs, “climatology has always been our passion.”

Angela just gives her a bland smile in response, and extricates herself with a convenient excuse about checking something in the medical supplies. She’s got enough to do without listening to a dissertation on global warming. 

The little scientist interrupts Angela’s day the next week, however, with only the most perfunctory knock at her office door before letting herself in. “Dr. Zeigler?” Mei says, “I hope you have a minute.”

Angela feels her eyes narrow in irritation, and tries to cover it up with another bland smile. “I’m sorry, Mei, I’m busy right now.” 

“We’re talking whether you’re busy or not,” Mei says, bright voice underlaid with steel, and Angela’s Janus bristles as Lei’s bulk fills the doorway. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but much of my schooling as a scientist involved the teaching of ethics.” 

Janus lays his ears back, and Angela reaches out to run a calming hand down his back. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Lei pulls his lips back, rumbles, “You may have been able to flaunt the Hippocratic oath while in Overwatch’s R&D, but as the medic for this team, you have a responsibility.”

Angela’s hand fists in Janus’ fur, and he says flatly, “We are _doctors_ , we _help_ people–”

“I’m sure. Shimada, Reyes, the untested psychiatric effects of the Caduceus,” Mei replies, counting it off on her fingers. Her eyes are as cold as ice, and just as unforgiving. “And your second team in Namibia when you were with Doctors Without Borders had you expelled over patient consent.”

“We won’t tolerate that behavior here,” Lei adds. He’s too big to fit his shoulders through the door, but something in his face suggests that he’d have no trouble making his way if he needed to.

“We always made a point of knowing who we were working with.” Mei gives Angela a frigid smile. “And some of the old guard already had concerns.”

“Jesse,” Angela snaps, “is biased.” There’s a sick feeling in her gut, something a little too much like guilt, and it makes Janus puff up and hiss, claws flexing. “You’re a climate scientist. You have no business telling me how to do my job.”

“I know how to do research and draw conclusions based off data. Your data doesn’t lie.”

Angela glares at her, not sure if her anger is at being accused or at Mei’s unconcern for the way Janus’ tail is thrashing. “You’re not as sweet as you look.”

“Neither are you,” Mei replies serenely. A bear has little to fear from a cat. She and Lei leave Angela and Janus to their ire.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Recall.
> 
> Lucio and Hana discuss their daemons.

“Why a sea lion?” Lucio asks one day, eyeing the ton of blubber and muscle sprawled over their safe house’s couch.

“Why a parrot?” Hana shoots back, relaxing against Chul’s bulk.

Lucio jerks his head at Carolina– _you take it_. She nibbles at his ear with her beak before answering, “It’s good for music. Between the two of us, we can make any sound we want.”  She doesn’t add that it’s also because her beak can crunch through bone as easily as an apple, and that it’s not just music that makes the pair of them a threat to Vishkar. They have an image to keep. 

Hana doesn’t seem to have any such concerns (as if a ten-foot long sea lion was something she could hide), since she trades their half-truth for a full one: “Chul’s better for aquatic fights.”

“I would’ve thought you’d go for something you could put in the MEKA,” Lucio says. 

“We’re not really the type to hide,” Hana shrugs.

Lucio and Carolina look at the pair of them–Hana in bright pink, gun slung at her hip, and Chul’s battle-scarred hide. “No kidding,” Carolina snorts, and when Chul chuckles, it’s deep enough to make the floor shake. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akande and Mei-Ling have an impromptu chat.

This particular restaurant in Oasis is known for its secluded balconies, stacked one on top of each other, every alcove lined with greenery so the only thing to be seen is the skyline beyond the tower. 

Akande pauses to admire the silhouette of Mei-Ling Zhou against the view, and then knocks at the balcony door. “May I join you?” She startles, her giant daemon rising to its feet, and he notes with approval that her hand closes firmly around the gun hidden in her purse. Before she can fire, he casually holds up both hands, flashing a disarming smile. “I promise, I have no desire to start a fight.”

Mei-Ling’s eyes narrow, her mouth pursing in clear doubt. Her daemon rumbles, baring fangs longer than even those Akande's Adaeze sports. “Why are you here, then?”

“I heard from my sources you were nearby, and hoped to talk.” He keeps his hands raised, but dares to saunter up to her table. “I’m quite a fan of your work.”

Mei-Ling’s humph shows quite clearly how much she believes that.

“Look,” Akande continues, gesturing to his bare right hand, “I come unarmed.” 

“That is a  _horrible_  pun,” Mei-Ling informs him, voice frosty, but she kicks out a chair for him anyway. “So you’re here for a private lecture.”

Akande sinks gracefully into the chair, automatically angling himself so the sun gilds the edge of his face. Adaeze settles at his feet, stretching out to show off her golden coat. Mei-Ling raises an eyebrow, but chooses not to comment as they arrange themselves to their best advantage. “I’ll gladly cover your lunch and lodgings for the duration of your stay,” he offers, disarming smile sliding into smoothly charming. “I’m sure that more than you’ve been given for some of your other lectures, Ms. Zhou.”

 “ _Dr_. Zhou,” she snaps back, and though she’s barely half his size, for a moment Akande feels his smile freeze on his face. Before he can recover, she’s gesturing imperiously in his direction, “You can have your lecture in return for some collateral. Give me your arm.”

“I left my gauntlet as to not alarm you–”

Mei-Ling tuts. Her towering mountain of a daemon gives them a derisive snort. “Not your gauntlet. Your  _arm_.”

For the second time in barely as many minutes, she gives Akande pause. It’s not well-known that the arm supporting the gauntlet is a prosthetic, and without it he’ll be unbalanced and missing his dominant hand. He’s still a formidable opponent, but it would give Mei-Ling a clear advantage in a fight. It is, he thinks, quite a clever thing to ask for. 

“You’re not as sweet as you look,” he tells her, voice admiring, and rolls up his sleeve to get at his arm’s attachment points.

This, finally, wins him a small, satisfied smile. Her daemon finally settles back onto his cushion. “You forgot my PhD,” she tells him, as if this is reason enough to divest him of his entire right arm. Considering his own not-inconsiderable pride, Akande thinks it’s a perfectly fair point.

“For which I apologize, Dr. Zhou,” he replies, and offers her his arm. When she takes it, she doesn’t waver under its weight. 

Adaeze rumbles in approval.  Akande feels some strange warmth swelling in his chest as she sits back and gives him another small smile. “I suppose you’re forgiven,” Mei-Ling says, and begins, “Since we’re currently in Oasis, I’ll start with a primer on desert ecology…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akande's Azaede is a leopard. The internet tells me her name means "daughter of the king," which seems appropriately grand for these two.


End file.
